Concerto Cello ann an E minor; An Ucràn

by Màrtainn Mac an t-Saoir

Ort an t-eallach
nighean bhòidheach òg a’ chinn duibh
do bhith a chur fo gheasaibh tùrsa d’ ionnsramaid
is leatha a thriall gu aghaidh aithreachas a’ bhlàir
tha caoidh an cridhe gach aoin ga foillseachadh fo ealan feargach do mheòirean;
seinnear dhuinn gach smaoin nach d’ labhair riamh le beul.

Ach seall, cha bhuin do bhogha iongantach do shaoghal na h-anail beò
cha mhotha sin do ghualainn shaor, do ghaoirdean lùthmhor treun.
Ort tha an t-eallach trom sgrios maireannach gach cogaidh
shealg, ann an grinneas làimhe, ann an doimhneachd cèill, leat fhèin.

Cello Concerto in E minor; The Ukraine

You bear the weight
Young attractive dark-haired woman,
To submit your spirit to the spell of your instrument’s sadness
and to venture with her to the frontline of battle’s regret:
the grief borne in individual hearts is amply expressed by the anger-filled skill of your fingers;
we are sung every syllable that no mouth ever uttered.

But surely, your incredible bowing cannot be of mortal breath
nor your energetic shoulder, your lithe, courageous, arm.
You bear the heaviest of weights, young woman, to hunt the lasting ruin of all war,
between deftness of hand and the deepest of sensibilities, alone.